


I Was Dumb, I Was Wrong, I Let You Down (But I know How I feel About You Now)

by Elekat



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Ainsley is her mothers daughter, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, argument, relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-15 05:01:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29803314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elekat/pseuds/Elekat
Summary: Ainsley accidentally let slips something Jessica still hadn't told Gil. He wants to know why, Jessica doesn't know what to say.
Relationships: Gil Arroyo/Jessica Whitly
Comments: 1
Kudos: 19





	I Was Dumb, I Was Wrong, I Let You Down (But I know How I feel About You Now)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MillieMay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MillieMay/gifts).



> Happy birthday, Liv! Here is some angst for the queen of angst.  
> Songs for this fic:  
> About You Now - Meadowlark  
> Touch - Daughter

Life was full of mistakes, or realizations of things one should have done before events unfolded in ways you didn’t want them to. Reality wasn’t a book, it didn’t unfold in a precise way. That's what Jessica had learnt, when she realized she should have told him before. Maybe events would have unfolded differently, but maybe it was destined to be this way. Destined for there to forever be a ravigne between them, that no matter how often they tried to bridge it the bridge would collapse.

They’d never been the type of friends – if they ever had truly been just friends – to tell each other about their relationships. Jessica had never expected him to tell her about his past sexual experiences, before Jackie or after. Jessica hadn’t been like that with any of her boyfriends – even Martin, she’d ignored it unless it started to affect the children (though it hadn’t turned out to be affairs; she’d much rather they had). Therefore, she never had completely understood why it mattered whom she had been with, especially when they hadn’t even been in a relationship. They had simply been circling around each other in some sort of dance that neither was attuned to, neither knew how to lead. 

So why would it matter that she’d have sex when they weren’t even dating? All she had wanted was someone that looked at her for  _ Jessica _ , not  _ the-disgraced-Milton  _ or  _ the-surgeons-ex-wife _ . Besides, there had been so much tension. Either they would be pulled together or the rope would snap and they’d spiral away in opposite directions. It had been looking as though it was going to snap, so she’d tried to let go before she could be caught in the aftershocks. Anyways, she had never wanted to be in a  _ relationship _ with the man, truthfully after over twenty years she barely knew him. No, it was just a dalliance. Just a casual fling with someone who happened to offer her emotion support.

Gil didn’t exactly see it that way though.

The only reason he had found out in the first place was because of Ainsley. Sweet Ainsley, who wanted to get back at her brother after he had let it slip that she had a new boyfriend. So she obviously had to ask her mother if Malcolm had told her that Endicott had crashed their family brunch. Said it so flippantly as though he was sure they had told Gil, that even Malcolm had told Gil. Who was to know Malcolm hadn’t thought of it, that their mother hadn’t yet told the man because she couldn’t find the words?

Throughout the rest of lunch, Jessica sat quietly, mind racing, trying to figure out how she was going to broach this. How she was going to explain the fact that it had been  _ months _ but she hadn’t said anything. Everyone else acted as normal. Malcolm explaining something he had seen in some new True Crime documentary, Ainsley talking about her newest research subject and the article she had written. Gil didn’t fully look at her the rest of the time though, only sneaking glances every once and a while. Jessica knew he was pissed, and would want to talk about what had happened. She had been secretly hoping there would be a way to sugar coat what had happened, maybe a couple glasses into a bottle of wine so that her guilt would be numb.

Of course, that idea was a lost cause.

After the kids left, there was only silence. No screaming like when she had been with Martin. Like when he had told her who he didn’t want around her, because he didn’t like them, didn’t like the way they looked at her. The screaming match that had ensued after he had told her that he didn’t want Nicholas around her, Malcolm, or Ainsley, had been catastrophic. She’d scream that he couldn’t control her, that it wasn’t the days when a man owned his wife. It was the nineties (as laughable as that sounded now) and she could do whatever the hell she wanted without his permission. Vases and shoes had been thrown, hateful words spewed at each other.

No, this wasn’t like that. It was quiet, calm. It was simply them cleaning up the table, Gil asking her why she hadn’t told him before. Why Jessica had kept this a secret. There were no accusations, no pointing fingers, no words thrown around like  _ slut _ or  _ whore _ that she’d heard hundreds of times before. No, it was simply a single question:

Why?

Jessica honestly didn’t know how to answer Gil's question. Was there even a reason? Was there an answer good enough to justify the fact that she had somehow thought it was a good idea to have a fling with Nicholas Endicott?

The man who attempted to assault her daughter.

Who planned on killing her whole family as some sick revenge on Martin.

Who stabbed the man in front of her because of her.

No. No, Jessica didn’t know how to answer this question. So, she had done something completely un-Jessica-like in that situation. She’d quietly said, “I don’t know,” before going quiet, looking away as she put the unused silver back in the drawer. She had been fighting her entire life to be someone other than the spoiled heiress, other than that pretty face, but what's the point now? Gil knew everything about her, had seen her at her worst. Her children were adults and they didn’t need her anymore, she was never going to be let back into society in the same capacity that she was before, again. So what was the point in fighting the man who had been her support for so long?

“Yes you do," he’d replied, crossing the room to let his finger tips caress her cheek for a moment. “And I’ll be here when you’re ready to tell me.”

He’d left after that. Left her standing there, frozen to the spot, knife in hand ready to go back into the drawer. He hadn’t meant spatially, but mentally and emotionally. He would always be ready to help her, help Malcolm, help Ainsley. But what if she was beyond help? What if at this point she was a crumpled ball of paper that had been kicked around for ages? The dirt and rips and creases would never leave, never be fixable.

It had been three days. Three days where she had cancelled all appointments, hadn’t left her house. Three days where her bar cart was always within five feet as she sat and thought, tried to collect her thoughts to no avail.

“You need to talk to him.” Ainsley stood in the doorway, pantsuit on, heels hanging off her finger tips. It was obvious she was just getting back from work, it had been the same everyday since she had moved in with her mother. Jessica glanced out the window, realizing that night had fallen – the day running through her fingers like sand. Looking down at her bourbon, glass in hand with only a few sips left inside, Jessica lifted it to swallow. But, even as she tried to ignore her daughter, Ainsley refused to allow it. Her shoes fell to the floor with a clatter as she raced over and grabbed the drink from her mothers hand. “Enough of this. What is stopping you from talking to Gil?

“This is none of your concern.” Jessica rose from her seat, walking the few steps back over to the cart to take another glass.

“Oh, but it really is.” Coming up behind her, Ainsley grabbed her mothers arm and turned her back around before she could pour another drink. “You’re moping.”

“Might I remind you that I,” Jessica motioned towards herself with her free hand, “am your mother.” she pulled her arm back. Ainlsey wasn’t holding on tight, only enough to make a point so she let go easily when Jessica tugged.

“Well, then,  _ mother _ ,” was the sarcastic reply as she rolled her brown eyes. “How about you stop acting like some teenager lamenting the loss of some guy-”

“He’s not just  _ some guy _ , Ainsley!” The pain in Jessica’s voice was evident, even as she tried her hardest to keep to her usual act. Ainsley’s eyes softened slightly as she looked at her mother, but that didn’t stop her from pushing. 

“Just go over there and talk, you’re both adults.”

“But I don’t know what to say," Jessica moaned as she sat back down onto the seat dramatically. “How am I supposed to tell Gil, the most moral man I know, who is constantly doing the right thing, that once again Jessica Whitly had royally fucked up?” she gulped, “that even before I knew about what Nicholas Endicott-” Ainsley winced at the name of the man she had unknowingly slaughtered “- was, that I regretted it? That the  _ moment _ I had my first drink with that man I was filled with regret. That I did it because I wanted to  _ feel something _ other than this  _ guilt _ that has been eating away at me for twenty plus years!”

The room dropped to silence as Jessica tried to wipe the moisture from her eyes without disturbing her makeup. Ainsley looked down at her feet for a moment as though she had been chastised as Jessica spoke once again much quieter. “This isn’t some school girl crush, Ainsley. I… I…”

“Tell him that.” Ainsley grabbed her mothers hands, looking into her eyes as she sat next to the strong woman next to her. “Tell him how you feel.”

Jessica looked at Ainsley, trying to figure out if she was being genuine or if this was some sort of plot like the ones she had pulled when she was a teenager, trying to get what she wanted. But it was genuine, as Ainsley’s eyes were full of sensarity. “When did you grow up so much?” she asked finally, pulling her daughter into a tight hug.

“A while ago, but you’re my mother; I’ll always be your little girl no matter how much I would like to be seen as an adult.” The two laughed together for a moment before Jessica stood up. “Go get your Lieutenant. I’ll be here.”

* * *

The drive to Gils building was quiet. Adolpho had been listening to an audiobook when she had gotten into the car, one about black holes (he’s called it  _ Einstein’s Monsters _ , or something along those lines) and she had told him to continue it even though she was in the vehicle. It distracted him, kept him from asking what was on her mind like he usually did. Jessica wanted to be quiet, wanted to be lost in her own thoughts without the chance of being interrupted by others. Wanted to think about what she was going to say, how she was going to say it.

Yet, now that she was standing in front of the elevator, waiting for the ancient machine to reach the main floor to pick her up, Jessica regretted the lack of conversation. Silence had only intensified her anxiety over this conversation. What if their window had been bypassed? What if instead of slamming it shut like last time, she’d shattered it to a point beyond repair?

“Jessica?” She turned as there was a chime and the silver doors in front of her slid open. Standing behind her holding a bag of groceries and a case of cheap beer was none other than the man she had come to talk to. “Jess, what’re you doing here? What’s wrong?”

She was speechless for a moment as she looked at him. Spring was coming to an end and the snow was melting, therefore it wasn’t cold enough for winter coats anymore. Gil’s black raincoat was undone, open enough for her to see the soft blue turtle neck he had on underneath. Jessica hadn’t noticed that he had moved closer when she had froze, bags on the floor, looking at her with worried eyes. She was shaken from her thoughts, finally, when his hand softly cupped her cheek. “Jess, what’s wrong?” His eyes searched hers, looking for an indication. She forced a smile as she laced her fingers through his. 

“I just came to see you.”

They both knew it wasn’t the full truth. But part way there, the part she was able to get out for now. Generally he would go to her place, or they would meet somewhere; Adolpho dropping her off, Gil driving her home and kissing her on the doorstep like they were in a cheesy teen movie. The ghost of Jackie haunted his apartment. The two women had been kind to each other, but Jackie had never fully trusted Jessica. Didn’t understand how she could be married to a serial killer for over a decade without realizing.

Gil motioned towards the elevator, and she entered before him, holding open the door. The two stood in silence as they rode towards the third floor, the faint noises it made the only thing cutting the silence. “Have any new cases?” They both knew she hated killers, hate that he and Malcolm put themselves in danger to catch them. Jessica understood why they did it, but that didn’t mean she had to like it.

“Just a quick case, open and shut.” he replied as they walked off, down the hallway and to his apartment door. He fished the keys out of his pocket, old  _ #1 dad _ keychain Malcolm had got him years ago faded and attached. They both entered the small area quietly, the silence not completely comfortable as it might have been, but not full of tension like Jessica had assumed it would be.

As Gil put the groceries away, she looked at the photos that hung down the hallway. School pictures of Malcolm and Ainsley throughout the years, vacations that he and Jackie had taken alone and with Malcolm. Photographs of his parents, or Jackie's parents. Of their wedding, of Malcolms graduation, various different vacations throughout the years. What Jessica was surprised to find, though, near the end of the row of photos was a picture of her, him, and the kids. 

It was one that had been taken about a year after Martin's arrest. They’d been on the private beach at her home in the Hamptons. Ainsley had been sitting on her lap, Malcolm between the two adults. Nobody was aware the photo was being taken, instead Malcolm and Ainsley were laughing at some unknown hysteric thing, heads thrown back. She and Gil were obviously trying to look as though they were paying attention to whatever the kids had said, but they were failing as their eyes were locked. A look in hers that she hadn’t seen in her own for what seemed like an eternity.

One of adortion.

“Jess, what’s going on?” Gil was behind her, passing her a glass of water and leading her towards the living room. Worn stuffed couches that were covered in cat fur from years passed, an old afgan folded over the back, in the corner of the room was an empty fish tank that was gathering dust. He looked at her as they sat down next to each other, slightly turned so their knees were touching. He looked at her with questions in his eyes, but also patience. Endless patience.

“I just wanted to feel something other than guilt, regret," she blurted out, the questions on how she was going to broach the topic forgotten. She forced her hand to stay down, holding onto the cup instead of up to cover her mouth. “I… I married a  _ serial killer _ . I somehow went over a decade without realizing it. I irrevocably harmed them… my children. I put them in harm's way.”

“It’s not your fault,” Gil replied, trying to catch her eyes.

“Just because something isn’t your fault, doesn’t mean you don’t feel the guilt associated with the actions.”

“Jess-”

“Gil, please,” she almost begged, lifting up a hand to stop him. “Let me say this, please.”

He nodded, quieting but taking her drink out of her hands and putting it on the table beside his own. He took both her hands in his, rubbing the backs softly. “I may not have meant to, but Malcolm and Ainsley were hurt by my misjudgements. Whether or not we mean them to, our actions hurt others. Especially our children. I feel this everyday, it never goes away. My worry for them? Never goes away. I had thought years ago that it would lessen as they got older and became adults themselves but somehow it just got worse. My fear that something will go wrong, the fear that one day I’ll wake up and they’ll be gone because of who  _ he _ is. I just wanted it to go away, wanted to feel something other than the guilt I feel when sober and the numbness when not.”

Jessica stopped for a moment and took a deep breath. She looked over Gil's shoulder out the window. It was dark, but the streetlight was reflected off the windows across the street. She tried to take herself out of the situation, make part of herself disappear. But it didn’t work, she was destined to be completely present. 

“I shut us down so hard, so suddenly, all those years ago. I was afraid you’d never want me again. And even with the flirting I… I don’t know. I just couldn’t see us having another shot. I believed that the window had been glued shut and would never open again. And then he appeared, and the idea that Martin had always hated him and would be pissed made the guilt disappear a tiny bit. He didn’t look at me as the woman who married the serial killer, who had fallen from grace on more than one front. I wasn’t Jessica Milton or Jessica Whitly, I was (at least I thought) just Jessica.” She let out a humourless laugh, one that left a bitter taste in both of their mouths. “I was wrong.”

“After that night I…” she paused, collecting herself, “I just didn’t know how to tell you. I felt so… dirty after, wrong. Yes it was consentual,” she said quickly as she noticed Gil face tightening, “but after the fact, I realized it hadn’t been something I had really wanted. I wanted someone else, I wanted to be held by someone else. I’d rather be held by you.”

“Jessica…” Gil tried to interrupt, but she wasn’t ready.

“I’m not done.” The corner of her mouth quirked up, filling Gil with a small sense of joy that was quickly overtaken with worry as he saw the sadness in her eyes. “I wanted to tell you because having sex with a serial killer, even if I didn’t know at the time, is kind of a bad thing. I wanted to tell you because I felt you needed to know, needed to know what connections he had to the family that he wanted to rip apart. Yet… once it was all said and done…” Jessica paused, taking a deep breath. “I didn’t want you to be disappointed in me. That would be worse than you hating me, I think. I didn’t want you to hear about my actions and think I’m a terrible person. I don’t want you to hate me, because I love you. And-”

Before she could continue speaking, his lips were on hers. His hands on her face, holding her to him, hers tangling in his hair. It felt like coming home, and while they had been together these past few months this felt different. They split apart after a moment, only a hair's breadth away from each other. “I love you, too,” he whispered back to her, watching as a smile lit up on her face. Jessica pulled him into a hug. With his arms around her, she felt calm, safe, loved; things she hadn’t felt in decades. The feeling she had only dreamed about since her life shattered. 

“Jessica,” Gil finally spoke quietly, “I would never think that you’re a bad person.” His cheek rested on top of her head, she could feel his jaw moving as he spoke. “I wish you had told me, yes, but more from the perspective of a cop who was trying to put the asshole in jail. And yes, I would love to punch that son of a bitch in the face-” she scoffed, poorly concealing a laugh and grinned as he said the rest, “- but I understand why you didn’t tell me.”

They sat comfortably in each other’s arms once more, soaking up the feeling of being beside each other once again after tense days apart. It had only been three, but felt like an eternity. “I will spend the rest of our lives showing you that none of that was your fault. That you are deserving of emotions other than guilt and regret. That you are loved.”

Jessica smiled into his neck one more time before pulling away and looking at him. Gil wiped away the tears that had fallen from under her eyes, hand resting on the side of her face for a moment before he pulled away. “And to start, I’m going to cook you dinner.” They grinned as he stood up, pulling her with him towards the kitchen. In this moment, Jessica only had one thought on her mind:

_ He’s worth it _ .


End file.
